On a recent road trip, hubby and I were discussing a book called “The Five Love Languages.” It teaches that each of us has a particular way of feeling loved, and when we receive that form of love, our “love tank” is filled. The categories are: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Physical Touch, Receiving Gifts and Quality Time.
I have always thought that my love language is words of affirmation. I feel most loved when someone tells me I am doing a good job, or my kids say I’m the best mom in the world, or hubby praises me for pretty much anything. Brown-nosing goes a long way with me.
But recently, I realized that I have a secondary love language not mentioned in the book. In fact, it is often so strong that I am beginning to think it is primary. That is the language of, “leave me the heck alone!”
I crave quiet time, solitude, an hour here and there of respite from the demands of the world. Give me five uninterrupted minutes in the bathroom, and both my love tank and my septic tank would be full.
I guess it would be accurate to say, I feel most loved when my love tank is empty. This is a bit problematic because I’m married to a man whose love language is physical touch.
I remind myself to rest my hand on his leg while he is driving. When we walk together, I have to pay attention or I won’t notice that he is reaching out to hold my hand. It goes against my natural grain to sit next to someone on the couch, but I do it for him and he feels loved. This is all well and good until he wants to reciprocate. He didn’t read the book, so he thinks I want to be loved in the same way. But if he rests his hand on my leg for more than 62 seconds (I timed it), I want to claw my way out of my skin.